The Trade Off

For me, buying a house has always been the most "adult" thing anyone can do. More than babies, more than marriage, more than anything else, buying a house, is to me the epitome of "settling down." In buying a house, you are proclaiming to yourself and the world, "I am rooted. I am choosing to live here and not anywhere else." No more freedom to just get up and go. To be able to just go and go wherever you choose is the enticement of renting. You can convince your partner to go, you can wrap up sleeping babies and go, but you can't take your house with you where ever you want to go. There is a part of me that gets why people would want to buy a house; the inherent roots, safety and security. A home. But at 26, the call of living elsewhere - and not anywhere in particular, just some place I have not lived or seen - is too strong, too loud, so that the idea of trading off the freedom to move for the security of roots is not yet worth it to me. Maybe in five years or so, but not now. The trade off just isn't worth it.

But trade offs are life. They permeate every every decision we make. Shampoo with moisturizer or color stay? A decision with built in trades offs that I had to make yesterday. A college degree that is in the subject I love and am passionate about but has no marketing abilities, or the degree that will get me a guaranteed job out of the blocks of graduation? Trade offs are nothing new to us; we are all aware of them and feel their presence with every decision we make. There has been one trade off however, that I have been wrestling with for quite some time now, and I'll confess, I don't know what I think on the matter - which is for me, a bit extraordinary.

Sandy volunteers in my office. She's 70 years old, looks 15 years younger than that, and has one of the warmest, wisest and giving spirits I have ever come across. Sandy's warmth and wisdom was not born from a life of rainbows and candy canes, but like most people who exude loving strength, Sandy had until recent years, a very difficult life. Married to a man that stifled her passions, desires and joys, Sandy learned to endure a life that did not feel her own. No, Sandy did not survive Auschwitz or something that traumatic, but by remaining committed to a man that she was unhappy with, Sandy experienced a deep loss. Loss of youth, loss of years and above all, the loss of the precious, set time one has in this life. Since the death of her husband, Sandy has reclaimed her life. With no sense of bitterness or resentment, Sandy has been doing the work of learning to love her life. And she does; it is clear that she is in love with life and living. I believe, and Sandy will confirm, that she was able to discover the joy of life because of the long, difficult years of feeling that her joy did not matter.
For me, Sandy embodies the paradoxical reality, that those who can walk through the fires of life and not be consumed, are those that are the deepest in touch with what it is to be alive, human, and joyful. It is in those dark places, the wasted youth and the joyless years, that you discover truths about life and who you are, that once you are on the other side of the pain, can bring you to a place of strength and flourishing. Now, that's not always the case. Those who go through the pain and ultimately break from the weight of it will not feel that same unshakable joy once on the other side - they can't, their broken. But those who do make it through, and who like Sandy, grew from the difficult times, have something that they are able to hold on to, something that those who have not experienced deep pain don't get to have. I see it in the same light as artists. When you look back upon the great artists of societies: painters, writers, musicians..., you see that most of them were on the fringe. The fringe of society, humanity and sanity. Being on the fringe however, gave them the eyes of unique perspective through which they were able to see clearly and articulate truths about the realities of the human condition. There in lies the deep trade off. To have that perspective, you often have to live outside of the masses, but to live outside of the masses is often painful, alienating and sorrowful.
So is it worth it? Is the insight, the strength, the perspective made possible by the fires of pain worth it? I have no idea. I know that I am drawn to people like Sandy; as though I am gaining joy by association. I also know that they are the people I seek in times of pain, because they have been there, and they know what it is to not only survive, but to survive with grace. The problem is, no matter the ultimate benefit you may be able to gain upon the conclusion, living in the pain is painful no matter the outcome. A broken heart hurts regardless of the lesson learned. The devastation of disease or death tears apart lives and breaks the spirit even if it heals over time. If someone puts on a happy face in the midst of suffering and says "oh, but through pain we gain strength," their full of shit. Pain hurts no matter how you dress it up and it is never to be romanticized with the promise of insight and strength. Here in lies the trade off that I may never find peace in. The Apostle Paul's letter to the Philippians, may be the best reconciliation of realities that I have ever seen on this matter - but even his insight provides no clear answer. But then, that's the essence of a trade offs, now isn't it?